The Third-Inning Awakening

Maya dragged herself into the bleachers like a zombie, phone clutched in her hand as if it were an oxygen tank and she'd been underwater for three days. Which, honestly, she kind of had. Her iPhone had died at 2 AM last night—right after she'd fallen down yet another Instagram rabbit hole, comparing her life to people she didn't even know, watching filtered versions of reality that made her own existence feel gray and small.

"You going to watch or just scroll through Leo's entire baseball game?" her best friend Chloe whispered, nudging her with an elbow.

Maya blinked. She'd been doing it again—autopilot, thumb swiping, brain turned to mush. The zombie mode. It had gotten so bad lately that she'd zone out in conversations, miss entire explanations in class, feel like she was watching her own life through someone else's screen.

Leo stepped up to home plate. Her younger brother, with his too-big helmet and jersey that hung off his frame. He looked different than she remembered—since when did he have that concentration face? Since when did his arms look like he'd been working out?

Crack.

The baseball sailed into left field. Leo bolted toward first base like someone had lit a fire under him, dirt kicking up behind his cleats, and Maya felt something weird happen in her chest—like her heart had actually remembered it was supposed to feel things besides anxiety and FOMO.

She looked down at her iPhone. 11:43 AM. Eighty-seven notifications. None of them real.

When Leo scored, pumping his fist and grinning so wide his face practically split in half, Maya did something she hadn't done in months. She put her phone in her pocket. All the way. Not just face-down on her knee like a pretend gesture.

"He's getting good," she said, and the words came out rusty, like she hadn't used her real voice in forever.

"Finally noticing?" Chloe bumped her shoulder. "Been waiting for you to wake up, zombie girl."

Maya laughed, and it sounded like her. The iPhone buzzed in her pocket, insistent and demanding, but for the first time in what felt like forever, she didn't reach for it. She watched the baseball game instead. She was actually there. She was actually awake.